Friday, June 19, 2015

the last half day

Due to a curious solution to the problem of too many snow days, our school year ended at 12:30 on Monday.  We finished everything important on Friday, and I had hoped just a little that maybe no one would come on Monday--but they did, and we found lots of nice ways to fill that last few hours (including giving everyone one last chance to count to 100, an assessment I had forgotten to squeeze in--just as well they all came!).

And then they were gone.

Sometimes a meager harvest

The last half day--
walls stripped, treasure bags packed,
Jim Joe jumped one last time;
gifts given and received,
farewell hugs ceremoniously
hugged, fast and earnest,
because we'd run out of time again
one last time.

Now the room  is hollow, dead--
nothing living but the teacher and
a single valiant sugar snap vine,
three feet high and climbing
a string up the Weather Window.
On the one vine, at the top, hangs
a single beautifully formed,
pleasingly plump green pod.

Teacher steps out of her sandals
onto a low chair and up onto
the radiator, plucks the fat pod
full of peas she forgot to share
and eats it, all by herself--
one last sweet crunchy mouthful
swallowed alone in the classroom
on the last half day.

HM 2015
all rights reserved

Mary Lee herself is rounding up remotely at A Year of Reading today.  Go get yourself some farmyard fun and lots of poetry goodness from around the Kidlitosphere!


  1. Teacher deserves a sweet crunchy mouthful! I feel a little guilty that Elena wasn't there on the last half day... (We spent the week in the OBX, a much needed respite.)

  2. What a beautiful tribute to your school year, Heidi! I suddenly have a craving for snap peas. =)

  3. Lovely, Heidi. I wish for you a pleasingly plump green summer to bite into next.

  4. You captured this scene with the attitude that you live everyday, with joy and hope. That last green plump pod a welcome surprise.

  5. Nice, Heidi. I love the detail "ceremoniously
    hugged, fast and earnest," "Weather Window," "low chair," "one last sweet crunchy mouthful."

  6. Love. Maybe we need to create an anthology of end-of-year poems...

  7. I remember well the feeling of running out of time one last time. Beautifully written, Heidi. Your heart shines through.


Thanks for joining in the wild rumpus!